


Attack/Defense

by Somerandomauthorrr



Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Bullying, Ford Needs A Hug, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Injury, ford gets hurt, stan gets hurt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-04
Updated: 2018-08-04
Packaged: 2019-06-21 15:46:28
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,339
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15561126
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Somerandomauthorrr/pseuds/Somerandomauthorrr
Summary: When Ford comes home after an encounter with Crampelter. Stan rushes to his aid.In a matter of days, the roles reverse.





	Attack/Defense

Once the door opened, Stan immediately grinned. “Finally, you’re home. And I thought I was the one who always came back late.” He didn’t bother to muffle his laugh. Ford acknowledged him with a dull grunt, facing away from his brother. 

Stan knew something was wrong for two reasons.  
The most obvious one: he was walking a lot slower, and had a small limp.  
In addition to that, he wasn’t bombarding him with his science lessons, or the latest project he started. He just quietly shuffled to his bed, planting himself face-down on the mattress. 

“Hey, what’s up with you?”  
“Nothing. I’m just tired.” His words were muffled, but audible.  
“You haven’t said anything about your nerd things since you got home, and you came home late. Somethin’s up, sixer.” Stan closed the door before he sat on the edge of the bed, nudging his shoulder lightly.  
He flinched away from the contact.  
“Come onnn, bro. Don’t me such a-“  
Stan glanced at the side of his face. A red mark spread across his skin, something that was sure to bruise later. “Hey sixer, what’s that on your face?” “It’s nothing, Stan. Can’t a guy take a nap in peace?”  
Stan wasn’t convinced.  
“I accidentally broke one of your beakers earlier, I was tryin’ to see if I could fit my hand in it.”  
Ford immediately turned around, exposing his face. “Stan! Come on!”  
“Holy shit…” he got a full view of what happened.  
Ford’s eye was almost dark purple, dried blood on his cheekbone and fresh blood dripping from his nose. His lip was busted apart, eyebrow split from a heavy impact. New bruises lined his collarbone and cheek.  
Stan immediately panicked, and he had good reason to. “Ford, what the fuck? Why wouldn’t you tell me?” “I didn’t want you to freak out like you are now.” He wrapped his arms around his sore torso, cringing slightly. “I think they bruised my ribs.” “Oh shit Ford. Just-just wait here.”  
Stan left his brother in their shared room, heading downstairs to get some ice and a wet cloth. 

Once he returned, Ford was laying back on the bed, groaning softly. “Crampelter really needs to lay off.”  
“That bastard did this?!”  
Stan set down what he gathered, tight fists at his sides. “I swear to god I’ll-“ “Stan, can we just focus on the task at hand right now?” He looked at Stan with obvious pain in his eyes, offering a sad smile. “Mind handing me that ice?” 

Ford had the ice bag pressed to his ribs, his left leg elevated. Stan didn’t exactly explain why, but Ford said it was bothering him, and that was the first solution he thought of.  
Stan was in the middle of cleaning off dried blood, angrily mumbling to himself. “Next time I see that punk…I swear I’m gonna…I’ll beat his…he better not…”  
“Stan, you’re practically speaking in tongues. Relax.” “How can I? Some punk ass bitch just beat the hell out of my brother!” “And what’s new? It’s not like he hasn’t done this before.”  
He regretted the words the second they escaped his lips. Ford glanced up at his now silent brother. Stan spoke much softer than before. “He’s…done this…before?”  
“Stan, come on, be reasonable, now is certainly not the time to-“ “I’ll kill that bastard!”  
Ford grabbed his arm before he had a chance to run. “Stan! Just sit down, relax!” “Ford, could’ya let go?!” “No!”  
Stan refused to rip his arm from his grasp. Even in a blind rage, he knew it would hurt him. Crampelter had certainly hurt him enough.  
“Fine, Fine. I’m calm sixer, I’m calm.”  
Ford hesitantly loosened his grip, pulling him towards the bed. “Just calm down for once.” “I am calm.” “Stan, you’re practically fuming.”  
He was right. Stan’s hands were clenched into tight fists, his knuckles paper white. His cheeks were red, and his breaths were heavy.  
“Hey Stan, why don’t we go plan a prank on the guy? That’ll get him to leave us alone.” 

After seeing the desperate smile on his brother’s face, he couldn’t say no. “Alright sixer. Let’s plan somethin’ good.” 

 

After a day or two, Ford was back to his normal, studious self. He kept an eye on Stan, as to make sure he didn’t cause a scene with Crampelter.  
Each time he passed him, he merely scoffed and continued on. Ford was astounded as his restraint. He didn’t even try to trip him once.  
Stan just…ignored him. He didn’t antagonize him or tease him in the slightest. He acted as if he wasn’t even there. 

“Hey, I’ve got practice today, so tell Ma’ not to wait up.” Stan closed his locker, sliding his bag over his shoulder. Ford gave a small nod, glancing down at the books in his hands. “When you get back we can finish that prank.” “Totally. Now get home before Ma’ has a heart attack.”  
They shared a laugh before parting, one heading for the parking lot and the other for the gym. 

 

Once Ford returned home, he greeted his parents the same.  
“Stan’s at practice today, so he said not to wait on him.” Ford reached for a soda bottle, taking a small sip.  
“That don’t sound quite right.” “What do you mean?”  
“Well, Stanley has practice three times a week. Thursday’s he has off.” 

The bottle slipped from his hands and broke on the floor.  
“Stanford!” “I’m sorry Ma’, I have to go get Stan.” “Now you get back here and clean this up!”  
Ford was already halfway towards the door when it swung open.  
Stan was in the doorway, holding his right arm to his chest. Blood dripped onto the floor, his left eye swollen shut.  
“Stanford? Was that you?”  
Stan pressed a finger to his lips desperately, red liquid dripping from his knuckles.  
“Uh, yeah Ma’. I’ll clean up that glass, you can go back to work.” 

 

Once the bedroom door was close, Ford let the dam break.  
“Are you insane?! You must be to lie to me like that. I cannot believe you…what did you do?” 

Stan rubbed the back of his neck apprehensively, sticky blood dripping onto his shirt. “Well…he was in the gym, and I had time, so I…I taught him a thing or two.”  
“Stanley…” up close, Ford could really see the damage. His knuckles were raw, still bleeding. Aside from his swollen eye, all that was wrong with his face was a split lip and a busted nose. Each time he took a breath, he tensed up.  
“Stan, what did he do to you?”  
“Better question, what did I do to him?” He laughed weakly, one that quickly turned into a cough.  
“Are you okay? Don’t tell me you cracked a rib.” “Nah, I’m good. He just slammed me into the basketball racks, nothing I couldn’t handle.”  
Ford took a breath, glancing towards the door. “Let’s clean off that blood, hm?” 

 

Ford sat beside his brother on his bed, wrapping bandages around his raw knuckles. Stan held a bag of ice to his damaged eye, speaking in a low tone as to not disturb his brother or his respiratory system.  
“You don’t have to do this, sixer.” “You did the same for me.” He finished with the bandages, looking up at Stan. “I can’t believe you fought Crampelter over something this stupid-“ “you shut yer’ mouth.”  
Ford was taken aback by his tone, eyes wide. Stan hissed in pain as he attempted to move, but did so anyways. “It’s not stupid. Someone messin’ with ya’ isn’t stupid. Someone fuckin’ you up because you’re not just like them isn’t stupid. Sixer, he deserved what he got. I’m not gonna apologize for standing up for my brother.”  
He was out of words to say. Ford felt his breaths shake.  
He wrapped his arms around Stan, feeling a smile form.  
“Ford-air-I need air.”  
He loosened his grip, Stan returning the gesture. 

“Thank you.” “Hey, anything for my brother.”


End file.
